A Definition Is What You Make Of It
by Ruby Garnet
Summary: Throughout time, Luke and Lorelai have found various ways to define who they are, as individuals and as a couple. (LL - WIP.)
1. Prologue: Incandescence

**A Definition Is What You Make Of It**

_A fic by Ruby Garnet. Dedicated to crazy-dreams because as an amateur, once in a while, it's good to know that a master is leaning over your shoulder, encouraging you every step of the way. _

**A/N**: This is an ongoing multi-parter. Instead of my writing a million one-parters and flooding my profile, I'll just glue them together and you get the adorable little scrapbook that is this fic. Credit to dictionary.com.

* * *

**Prologue – { … incandescence … }**

Incandescence (noun) - The emission of visible light by a hot object.

* * *

It was hard for Lorelai to remember a Stars Hollow winter colder than this one.

Frost crusted over the corners of window panes around the house and instead of looking magical, it looked like an eight-year-old had gone crazy with cheap window crayons from a car wash. The sealant underneath the back door wasn't tight enough and a burst of frigid air sliced through the house's warmth every time a rush of snow flurries whirled across the porch. A fire flickered tentatively in the fireplace, but the flames weren't strong enough to effectively emit any source of heat.

Therefore, Lorelai found herself curled up on one end of the couch with an obsessive amount of fleece blankets and the December issue of _Cosmopolitan_. On the other end, Luke, covered in afghan, brought a thermos of Earl Grey to his lips and flipped the _Stars Hollow Gazette_ to a new page. _"Watch out __Connecticut__, we're in for one of the coldest winters in history. Expect 6-8 inches of snowfall within the next few days."_

A log fell in the fireplace, extinguishing the desperate flames. Luke sighed, pushed the paper from his lap, and walked over to the screen. Seven long-stick matches later, the fire was roaring with twice the previous intensity. Satisfied with his "manly" accomplishment, he let out a barely noticeable but victorious grunt and returned to the comfort of the black and white print of the Gazette.

Lorelai shivered beneath the blankets and she miserably thought to herself, _"How romantic. It's freezing cold, the fire won't stay, and the heater has selective tendencies. Fabulous."_ Visions of her and Luke snuggling against each other on the couch, bathed in the warm gold of a crackling fire, drinking cups of hot chocolate dissipated into an unreachable region of her conscience.

She came across a "Letter to the Editor" from a woman named Sara, who was having relationship troubles in the purest sense of the words. She went on to describe the trials of her relationship and then ended the letter with a sentence that every reader most likely related to.

_"I think the problem is that he and I just can't define where we are right now. I can't tell if we should break up or stay together."_

She didn't like to admit it when women sitting alone, halfway across the country, had the ability to dictate _her_ realities, even if the words made her stomach twist in unnatural ways with their impact.

It was hard to remember when the awkwardness began, when they started sitting on opposite ends of the couch and avoiding eye contact if at all possible. The tingles on the back of her neck from his hands used to tickle her into giddy daydreams, but one day, some time ago, they began to dull. He didn't touch her there anymore - he didn't touch her at all - and gradually, the feeling faded until there was nothing left and she pushed away the memory of anything ever being there at all.

They were still friends – it was hard not to be when you saw each other every day and shared the same small, cramped town with a population of about two hundred. Unfortunately, things still change. He stopped giving her a hard time about her cell phone usage (He said it was because he understood that she needed Rory, but that never stopped him before) and she started asking for coffee in the way a normal customer would, begging eyes and flirty smile obviously absent.

"_I'll have coffee, please."_

That's why he was here, alone, sitting with her. This was what friends did together on lonely nights.

"Luke?"

"Yeah?" Luke responded, sounding bored.

Lorelai bit her lip and gestured to his side of the couch. "Can I come sit by you?"

A puzzled frown crossed his face, but he erased it quickly, hoping that she didn't see. (She did.)

"I suppose," he said, more hesitantly than he'd intended.

She gathered her blankets in her arms and scooted over until she was next to him. She sat stiffly, her back straight against a cushion. Lorelai realized that she'd left her magazine over at the other end, but it was too late to retrieve it. She locked her eyes onto the blinking numbers on the cable box. 10: 10. Even numbers, safe numbers.

She hadn't realized it, but Luke had gently laid the newspaper on the floor and fixated his gaze on Lorelai, who was fixated on something else. He draped his arm over the back of the couch, absently lowering it until it slid behind Lorelai's neck and rested at the middle of her back. She turned her head slowly to look at him. Luke half-smiled and Lorelai did the same as she leaned into him.

"How would you define where we are?" Lorelai asked quietly.

He knew she wasn't talking about her address. "Somewhere that's … okay."

"Define "okay"."

"There's not a definition for everything, Lorelai."

"I know, but how would you define it?" She persisted.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't know exactly what I'm feeling. A definition is what _you_ make of it. Just you and nobody else."

"I could try to understand."

"I know you could. But I also know you won't succeed." He took her hand in his and squeezed.

She nodded as a tear slid down her cheek, the warmth and incandescence of the fire reflecting in a cold, crystal drop.


	2. Chapter 1: Aspiration

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**Chapter 1 – { … aspiration … }**

Aspiration (noun) – a strong desire for high achievement

* * *

A six-year-old Rory squealed and catapulted herself into a large pile of leaves; some red, others yellow. She dug a hole in the middle - a halo for the dry grass beneath it - and made herself a bird's nest. When she sat up, the stems of maple leaves caught in her scarf and jacket and hair.

"Look Mommy, I'm a bird!" She giggled as a gust of wind swept hair over her face, making a mouse brown curtain in front of her.

"I can see that! What a big nest you have." Lorelai skipped over to her daughter and plopped onto the ground next to her. She readjusted Rory's hair and carefully picked out all the leaves from her shirt. Traces of dust and dirt were left, but she figured the washing machine could take care of that later.

"I'm going to be a bird one day," Rory pronounced. "I'm going to fly all around the country and across the oceans and be free!" She clapped her hands together and threw leaves into the air, watching intently as each leaf spiraled back down to the ground.

"Of course you are," Lorelai said knowingly. "Of course you are." She lifted Rory from her bird's nest of leaves and brushed the last remnants of leaves from her pants and hair. "All right, you're going to have to walk now. Luke probably has lunch waiting for us already."

Rory grinned. "Do you think he'll have cherry pie?"

"Maybe if you ask nicely." Lorelai winked.

* * *

It was 2:30 and the lunch crowd was slowing down. A few regulars trickled in and out, leaving with either coffee or pastry. He was surprised that Lorelai and Rory hadn't been in yet. Their burgers and fries, covered in chili and cheese, were waiting patiently underneath a red heat lamp. He considered wrapping it up, putting it in one of his ordinary take-out boxes, and bringing it to their house – someone must be sick. Before he could move to the wrapping paper, the door opened and the two women – well, one woman, one girl – walked over to him, radiating smiles intact. 

He placed the burgers on the counter and proceeded to fill two coffee mugs, one with actual coffee and the other with milk.

"She's gotta have the real stuff one day, Luke."

"Well, it's not going to be today."

Their cheeks were rosy, slightly wind bitten. Their eyes, clearer than a glacial lake, danced around, occasionally skating across the counter and then over to Luke.

As they ate, the rest of the customers left. Sometimes, he swore they left intentionally. He liked to think that the entire town knew how important alone time with these two people was to him.

He leaned over the counter with dishes of cherry pie in both hands. Rory stopped her animated talking and said excitedly, "Pie!"

Lorelai, despite being supposedly older and wiser, copied. "Pie!"

He thought about withholding the dessert, but laughed in spite of his intentions and plunked the dishes down, dropping forks neatly beside them. Through mouthfuls of pie, the girls decided to initiate conversation.

"So, Luke," Lorelai chewed and swallowed. "Today, Rory decided she wants to be a bird."

He raised an eyebrow in fake surprise, "Really?"

Rory nodded furiously, careful to keep her mouth closed. Before she picked up her next bite, she said, "Yep. I'm going to fly around all over the world."

Luke said, "That's great. I'll look out for you with my telescope."

"When I grow up, I'll be a huge bird with purple wings. It'll be easier for you to see me then."

"All right, I won't waste my time watching you when you're young then." Luke said as seriously as he could, knowing that Rory would appreciate the sincerity.

He winked at Lorelai and she laughed. He grabbed a towel from underneath the counter and lifted ketchup and mustard stains from a nearby table.

"Luke?" Rory called out.

"Yes, Rory?"

"When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"I don't remember." (He did.)

"Oh, come on. You had to have had some kind of dream. Everybody wants to be something when they grow up." Lorelai insisted.

Luke shrugged. "I wanted to be…never mind. It's stupid."

"No it's not. Tell me!" Rory pleaded with her eyes and everyone knows you can't turn down little girls with pleading eyes.

"Oh, all right." He took a deep breath. "I wanted to be a police officer."

The elder Gilmore was surprised. "I never would've guessed."

Luke pointed to her. "See, I knew you'd think it was silly."

"No, no, no, I don't think it's silly. I'm just surprised. Why a police officer? I don't see you as a nun chuck, "get on the ground" type of person."

"I watched a lot of cop shows when I was young. It's what my dad would watch after dinner. There was this one episode when a police officer took a bullet for this homeless kid he didn't even know. Another guy saved a woman from drowning after a car crash." He lowered his voice to a volume that only Lorelai could hear. "I guess I just wanted to be someone's hero. To have people thank me for being around at the right time."

Rory said simply, "I think you would've made a good police officer."

"Thanks."

* * *

At Thanksgiving, a couple days later, Lorelai pulled Luke aside and handed him something wrapped in brown paper. He gave her a confused look and she merely smiled and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. 

"What is this for?"

"Nothing in particular; I just thought you should have it."

She looked at the ground apprehensively and waited for him to open it. He eyed the package warily and untied the strings binding the thing together. When he unfolded the paper, something small, plastic, and gold fell into his hand. He held it up to the window and realized that it was one of those police badges that one could purchase from Doose's around Halloween. He was speechless for a moment.

Her voice broke the silence. "You don't have to be a police officer to be someone's hero."

Luke turned to Lorelai and opened his mouth, but once again, no words came.

She spoke again, softly. "You're my hero every day. Rory's too. Just thought you'd like to know."

* * *

When it came time for Luke to make the traditional toast, the townspeople quieted. It was an unusual sound to behold in a busy, social place such as the diner. 

"This gets old and I still don't know why I have to make this stupid toast every year," He glared at Taylor. "But I guess it makes sense because I own the place. Cheers to the usual: family, friends, shelter, and food."

In unison, everyone held up their glasses. "To family, friends, shelter, and food."

"This year, however, I'd like to add one more thing." The townspeople looked at each other curiously, wondering what Luke, grumpy diner man, could possibly want to add to the Thanksgiving toast.

"Cheers to dreams and aspirations and the people that help you achieve them."

He held up his glass and looked at Lorelai. She smiled and in the midst of the cheering and commenced eating, he mouthed to her, "Thank you."

**

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	3. Chapter 2: Scintillation

A/N: Stephanie, thanks for the beta.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – { … scintillation … }**

Scintillation (noun) – The act of sparkling or twinkling

* * *

His fishing boots were expensive, along with just about everything else these days. Even when he didn't feel like going fishing, he went anyway because he felt obligated to the boots, or more accurately, their price tag. He dragged them out from the dusty confines of his closet and lifted them to his nose. The boots reeked of algae-infested marshes and hours of sitting in a cramped boat with the company of a few dead fish. He made a noise of disgust and threw them across the room; he'd spray them with something later. When they landed, he heard two loud thuds and then, seconds later, the sound of something smaller hitting the floor.

He looked over his shoulder in the direction that the boots landed and saw nothing. Curious, he wandered to the other side of the room. His toe hit something, and he bent down to pick it up. When he saw what it was, he exhaled deeply and fell backwards onto his bed. He wiped his hands on his jeans; he felt like he should have gloves, but this would have to do. He ran his thumb over the velvet box once before opening it.

There it was, just as he had left it a year ago.

The engagement ring. _Her_ engagement ring.

He had rehearsed the proposal so many times in his head, in the shower, in the mirror, and into the phone while talking to Liz.

_"Oh, Luke, again?" On the other side, Liz leaned on her kitchen counter and smiled tiredly. This was the third time in two weeks that Luke had called, asking if he could practice "one more time"._

_"I have to get this right." _

_"I promise you, no matter what comes out of your mouth, she'll say yes." She paused and added jokingly, "What is it with guys and thinking that they're never good enough?" _

_"If the women we loved weren't so perfect, maybe that wouldn't be a problem." He said, just as lighthearted. _

_Liz laughed. "Go ahead, big brother, go ahead. Pretend I'm Lorelai." _

_He breathed in and began to read off of a wrinkled note card. "Ever since the day I met you, I knew you were going to change my life…" _

The ring was intact; he'd never even held it. He just paid for it and left, assuming that soon he'd be holding her hand to his lips, and from that moment on, he could see the ring any time he wanted. Unfortunately, things just didn't work out the way he had planned. The silver ring sat patiently in its bed of black velvet, its scintillating nature tempting Luke to touch it.

Finally, he did.

He held it between his index finger and thumb, turning it over and over at different angles. The light penetrating through his sheer curtains caught the edges of the diamond and he sighed. It was gorgeous. It looked like something that a celebrity would spend tens of thousands of dollars on, not something crafted by a local jeweler that Liz knew from "some guy a couple years ago at this place". He was short on money last year and was thankful for Liz's connections, albeit, strange connections. He remembered the drunk jeweler calling in the middle of the night, asking Luke if he wanted an ivy pattern running down the sides. In his half-asleep state, he'd muttered something along the lines of, "Do whatever the hell you want."

The ivy - complete with little stems and leaves sprouting from a continuous vine – ended up being beautiful, he decided.

A time later, he put the ring back in the box. It closed with a defining noise that resonated within the walls of his apartment. He ran a hand through his hair and wondered why he'd even bothered to keep the thing around. Most men would've been distraught and returned the ring to Tiffany's, Zales, or Kay's the day after the disaster.

Then he remembered.

He kept it around because it symbolized chance and opportunity, mixed in with a little bit of hope. He thought he'd have a second chance, maybe a third. He thought that they'd make up, bring their relationship to the edge of the cliff again and jump off together, hand in hand. He kept it around, hoping that time would heal wounds and he'd have another shot. Time left a scar instead.

Luke stood up, hope lost, and shoved the box in his pocket. He grabbed his jacket and headed down the stairs.

* * *

_Tonight was the night. He had the ring box behind the counter, and the full intention of proposing when they came back from their date. In his fantasy, she would sit down, smile because she'd had a good time, tell him she loved him, and he'd reach for the coffee cup with the ring in it. _

_That cup never did reach his hands._

_"That was fun," she said while swinging a camera on her arm. "I never thought that a lighting ceremony would be interesting."_

_He smiled. "I never thought it would be either, but every person who's been in my diner for the past week has crowing about it, so I figured we should go."_

_"Wise decision."_

_"Want some coffee?"_

_"Eh, not right now. Let's go for a walk and come back." _

_"Sure, let's go," Luke agreed confidently, not aware of the fact that later, when he came back, she wouldn't be with him. _

_He slipped an arm around her waist, and they began walking toward the Gazebo. They were both quiet for a moment, each lost in completely different thoughts. As quickly as it had descended upon them, the silence lifted. _

_"Luke?" _

_"Yeah?" _

_"Where are we?" _

_"In the middle of Stars Hollow." Luke was confused. How could she not know where they were? _

_"No, I meant in this. Our relationship." _

_ "Lorelai, how many times are you going to ask me that?" _

_"As many times as it takes to get the answer I want…?" she ventured. _

_He sighed. "What exactly is the answer you want?" _

_"I don't know! Something definite. Not something vague." She was beginning to lose her temper. It was late and she wanted answers. _

_"All right, all right. We don't need to argue over this." Luke looked to the sky and thought, Why the hell is this happening tonight? _

_"We're in a good place, Lorelai, we enjoy each other's company and we love each other. There." _

_"That was vague." She crossed her arms. _

_"What were you looking for?! This is a sham relationship and I think we should break it off?" _

_"That's not _even_ funny." _

_He threw his hands up. "I didn't say it was! I'm just frustrated." _

_"You're not the only one." She took a breath. "Well, do you think you might want to marry me one day in the near future?"_

_"One day, yes." It killed him to think that she'd been waiting. _

_"That sounded like a pretty far off "one day"." _

_"It could be…who knows? You can't rush things like that. When it's right, it'll happen." _

_"When is it going to be right? What clues are you going to need to know that it's right?" _

_"I don't know! Why do you always have to ask so many questions? Why can't you ever take anything for face value? Just let things happen when they happen! You don't have to scrutinize everything!" _

_"Do you really want to know why I'm always asking questions?" _

_"Yes, because it would make my life a whole lot easier." _

_"Of course, it's all about your life," Lorelai spoke quickly, as not to allow him to comment on that, "but once in awhile, I'd like you to make it about our life. I keep asking you questions because you never give me the answers. That's why." _

_He was on the verge of screaming, "There's a damn ring in the diner with your name on it. If you want it, then go get it." _

_"I never know how to answer. You know I'm not a romantic guy. I can't answer you in the same way that the guys in the movies can." _

_"I know that." _

_"Then why do you keep hoping for something more than what I give?" _

_"Because people change, and you've changed so much in these past couple of years we've been together. You have honest feelings for something, someone, preferably me, that you could share, and it's disappointing that you just keep them to yourself." _

_"I've told you how I feel about you!" _

_"Have you?" She gave him a look just then, one that clearly said, "Then why haven't you proposed?" _

_He didn't have a response to that. Lorelai knew he wouldn't. _

_"That's what I thought." She uncrossed her arms and started to walk away._

_He ran up behind her and jogged to keep up with her brisk pace. "Lorelai, wait." _

_She kept going. "That's what I've been doing. Waiting." _

_"Come back to the diner for a minute and have coffee. It'll make you feel better and we can talk this out," Luke pleaded desperately. _

_"Not really in the mood." _

_"Please." _

_She halted and looked at him. "Come on, Luke, it's over." _

_"What?" _

_"You know just as well as I do. It's only causing us more hurt by trying to work it out. We were good friends at one point, you know. It can happen again." _

_And with that, she walked away again, and this time, he let her go. _

_When Luke got back to the diner, he took the box out of the cup and went upstairs. He sat on his bed for a few minutes, tossing the box into the air and catching it over and over. His heart finally got the best of him and he headed over to the phone. He dialed, heard it ring, and in the end, wasn't surprised that nobody picked up. _

_He shoved the box into one of his fishing boots and put it in the closet, praying that he'd never see it again. _

* * *

_Lorelai managed to keep it together until she got home, but as soon as she stepped into her room, she broke down. This wasn't what she had wanted at all. The point of her question was to find out if he was ready to marry her in the same way that she was ready to marry him, not to break off the relationship completely. As she covered her face with a pillow, she knew that she'd be regretting this for the rest of her life. _

_The phone rang and she only cried harder. _

* * *

He walked up to the counter and looked around for an employee. There was nobody to be seen, so he tapped the bell, the sign beside it reading: "Ring if nobody's around".

A scraggly man in a black t-shirt and jeans came out from the back room. Clean-shaven, non-smoking, and non-drinking Luke seemed out of place in this joint. The man eyed him and slammed the back of his hand on the counter.

"What have you got for me?"

Luke dropped the box into his palm and looked away.

The man opened it and a sparkle hit him in the eye. "Whoa." He took the ring out and balanced it on his palm, bouncing it a little. "This is pretty. Custom-made?"

"Yep."

"Wow. The diamond is perfect. The lady this was for must've been stunning."

"She was."

"Dude, are you sure you want to pawn this? As much money as I could make off of this later, I think you'd benefit by keeping it." The employee carefully placed the ring back into the box and held it out.

Luke took it out of his hand and placed it back into his pocket. "Yeah, I'll keep it. Sorry for the trouble."

"No problem, man. Just doing what I can. You have a nice day now."

"You too."

Luke exited the store, glad he'd decided to keep it. He thought it strange that random people knew you better than you knew yourself. Never mind that he'd driven more than an hour to get here; he could come to peace with his thoughts now. He would hang on to this ring in the same way that he held onto hope for another chance.

Back in Stars Hollow, he saw her out of the corner of his eye as he drove down the main street. She was waving down the street excitedly to Sookie, as if she had some great news to share.

Later in private, he thought to himself that her hand would've looked better with the ring on it.


	4. Chapter 3: Education

**A/N:** I can't afford to foot the bills for the depression clinics (I'm saving up for a class ring, people.), so this update is more upbeat. But, keep in mind that what goes up must come down. This takes place about two weeks after Raincoats and Recipes; Luke and Lorelai have already had their movie date.

_Brownies to Stephanie, who despite my whining and complaining about how I hated this chapter, managed to keep a positive attitude and constructively helped me out. Thanks._

* * *

**Chapter 3 – { ... education ... }**  
  
Education (noun) - The knowledge or skill obtained or developed by a learning process.

* * *

_Awkward. That was the only word Lorelai could think of to describe the recent movie date between herself and Luke. It wasn't that she'd expected anything over-the-top, but when she felt the need to ask for permission to kiss him, she knew there was a slight problem; they weren't comfortable around each other. Luke had spent the entire movie wringing his hands in his lap while Lorelai held onto the arm rests of her chair as if her life depended on it. She didn't have food or drink to distract her either; when Luke had offered to buy her something, she felt as if she would throw up from the nervousness and declined.  
  
Dinner afterwards hadn't been much better. She could swear that they carried on more conversation with their waiter than with each other. He commented on the fact that she wasn't eating much, but she raised an eyebrow, pointed to his nearly full plate, and his eyes returned to the fork with which he was so artistically moving his shrimp. Once in a while they caught each other's glances; he smiled and she blushed. When they left, their waiter couldn't help wondering why almost three-fourths of their meals had been left behind.  
  
Needless to say, neither Luke nor Lorelai remembered what the movie was about, and when they returned to Stars Hollow, both were starving._

* * *

"Cheeseburger and pie. Got it. If you can get off from work for the day, do you want to go somewhere on Saturday?" he asked, nonchalantly leaning on the counter.  
  
The ask-out sounded so normal, like they'd gone out a million times. She wondered how he could be so unfazed after their previous outing, which she now deemed the "I felt like I was dating my cousin" date. In all honesty, his confidence surprised her.  
  
"Um, sure. I can take time off. What about you? Do you have someone covering?"  
  
"Caesar said he wants to work some extra hours this week since he's going on vacation next week, so he said he'd cover."  
  
"Oh, okay. Then, sure, I'd love to. What do you want to do?"  
  
"I had something in mind..." He turned around and passed her order through to the kitchen.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I think it'll be more fun as a surprise."  
  
"I don't like surprises."  
  
"You'll like this one."  
  
"_Someone's_ confident." Lorelai spun around twice on her stool. "Is where we're going loud, blue, or furry?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind, I was just trying to confuse you." She grinned. "I'm very proud of the fact that I am successful ninety-nine percent of the time."  
  
"Now who's confident?" he teased.  
  
"Oh, be quiet."  
  
"I'll pick you up at 12:30. That okay?" He smirked. "Will you be _awake_?"  
  
"I will be awake and ready. I promise."  
  
"Good. Dress casually and eat beforehand."  
  
"I know now! We're going to ride camels through the desert!"  
  
"I'm just going to let the fact that we don't have deserts in Connecticut slide and tell you that no, we're not going to ride camels."  
  
"Elephants?"  
  
"You're hopeless."

* * *

Lorelai pulled a black hair tie from her teeth and brushed her hair back into a low ponytail. She modeled herself in front of the mirror, turning left and right, and hopping on one foot for good luck. She was finishing applying her lipstick when the doorbell rang. She slipped her feet into a pair of white flip-flops, grabbed a package of pop-tarts from her dresser, and flew down the stairs. Through the door window, Luke could see her hastily shoving a pop tart in her mouth. He chuckled. The door swung open to reveal a very guilty-looking Lorelai.  
  
"Hey," she muffled through her pop tart. "You're right on time. Come on in for a second; I still have to get some stuff together."  
  
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I thought I told you to eat _before_ I got here."  
  
"Yeah, maybe you did, but I was busy doing other stuff, like putting on my makeup and finding this fantastically adorable shirt that I forgot I had," she said, gesturing to her light blue v-neck. She turned to grab her purse, but was distracted by something underneath Luke's arm. "Is that...?"  
  
He folded his arms tightly and looked around. "What?"  
  
"You have a safety-pin in your armpit." She was giggling now.  
  
"I do not." He thought he was being indignant, but his flushed face told a different story.  
  
"You do! May I ask why?" Lorelai stepped towards him and he balked.  
  
"It's nothing. Got your stuff?"  
  
"No changing topics!" She calmed and tilted her head at him. "Do you have a hole in your shirt?"  
  
He narrowed his eyes. "So? What if there is?"  
  
Lorelai clapped and walked over to him. "It means that I get to sew it back up."  
  
"No, it doesn't. It means that we're going now. We can't waste too much time or else it won't be worth the drive." Luke apprehensively looked down at his watch, desperate for it to move its' hands about four hours fast, four hours that in an imaginary world, would give him the advantage in this discussion.  
  
"The faster you take off your shirt, the faster we can get going." The words flew out of her mouth carelessly, her sense for proper phrasing completely gone. "Well, that certainly didn't come out the way I had hoped, but you know what I meant. Cough it up. It'll only take a second."  
  
He sighed and began to unbutton his shirt. He could feel her eyes wandering over his chest and it made him uncomfortable. He met her stare and held his now completely unbuttoned shirt closed. "Will you stop that?"  
  
"Stop what?" Lorelai threw her hands in the air with a flourish. "I'm not doing anything," she said innocently.  
  
He grumbled, took his shirt off, and quickly threw it at Lorelai before sitting on her couch and pulling a pillow tightly to his bare chest.  
  
She retrieved a miniature sewing kit from beneath her coffee table and draped the shirt over her arm as she walked over to him. Lorelai giggled. "And they say teenage girls are insecure about their chests. You'd think it'd be less awkward for you now that we're dating."  
  
Luke shot her a look. "Okay, okay, wrong time for that." A worried expression crossed his face when Lorelai sat next to him, spreading the shirt and sewing materials in front of the two of them. "Lorelai, what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm helping you get an education. I'm going to teach you how to sew."  
  
He nearly screeched, but men, and especially not Luke, just don't screech. "Are you kidding me?"  
  
While delicately threading a needle, Lorelai replied, "Nope. It's a useful skill."  
  
He buried his head in the pillow he was hugging, absolutely miserable. "Sewing is something that women do."  
  
"Now it's women and Luke." She took the safety pin out of the shirt with one hand and gently pried the pillow away from Luke with the other. "Come on, buddy, you can do it. Watch me." Luke groaned and watched her move the needle skillfully between the folds of fabric, making a flawless pattern of cover stitches. She finished about three stitches and handed the needle to him. "Now you try."  
  
"I don't think I can do this." He clumsily stuck the needle through the shirt and ended up poking his own fingers. "Ow. Geez. My fingers aren't as small as yours."  
  
"S'okay. Keep going. You're doing pretty well for someone who hasn't done this before." She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned on it. "Uh, watch that. Now you're going crooked." He finally completed a decent looking stitch and Lorelai was ecstatic. "Aw, that's a good one."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. It would help if you did this, though." Her hand covered his and adjusted it to where his steadying hand wouldn't get in the way of the sewing hand as much. Her touch made his hands shake, and he nearly dropped the shirt. "There. You're almost done." She beamed and resumed her position on his shoulder. When he finished, Lorelai knotted the end of the thread and held the shirt out to admire his work. Of course, the beginning of the stitching looked better than the end, but from far away, it wasn't noticeable because both shirt and thread were white. "That's better than a safety pin, isn't it?" she asked pointedly.  
  
He tried to hide his grinning. "Sure, whatever."  
  
"You know you love it. I bet you're proud of yourself. You should be. You're such a good student." Lorelai was beside herself with the smiling. She got such a kick out of Luke and his mantra of never trying anything new.  
  
He admitted, "Okay, so I think it looks cool, but I'm never doing it again. I can already hear the wheels turning in that head of yours; don't even _think_ about ripping your clothes on purpose so that you can watch me sew them back together."  
  
In a redneck accent, she responded, "Now why on earth would you think I'd do anything like that?"  
  
He rolled his eyes as he put his shirt back on. "Because I know you."  
  
"No, you don't. You don't know lots of things about me. I bet you don't know what my favorite color is." She placed the needle and thread back into their box and snapped it shut.  
  
"Red."  
  
"You asked Rory."  
  
"Did not!" He stood up and handed her purse to her. "You ready?"  
  
"Yeah, and you so did! Admit it. You have no idea what I like." She teased him relentlessly as he headed for the door.  
  
"Well, _you_ have no idea what _I_ like, so we're even."  
  
He pushed her towards the door lightly and she protested. "Hey now! This is not fun!"  
  
"Come on, out the door."  
  
She whirled around suddenly and stopped. She peered up at him and hesitantly placed a kiss on his lips. After pulling away, she placed one hand at the base of his neck, while the other remained hugging his waist. She met his eyes and flippantly remarked, "See? I do know what you like."  
  
He ran a hand through her hair and kissed her forehead in response. "But, see, I swear that displays of affection aren't allowed between teachers and students, so it doesn't count. It was a nice effort, but it doesn't count." He attempted to keep a stern expression on his face, but the way Lorelai's mouth was gaping weakened him, and he laughed as he continued to push her outside.


	5. Chapter 4: Intricacy

**A/N**: Storyline from Chapter 3 continued. (Thanks to Steph and Anna.)

* * *

**Chapter 4 - { ... intricacy ... }  
  
**Intricacy (noun) - The condition or quality of being intricate; complexity.

* * *

It wasn't Tuscany or the Napa Valley, but rural Connecticut possessed a similar beauty that only locals, like Luke and Lorelai, could truly appreciate. Luke enjoyed driving in this area of the state because of the scenery - the endless winding roads that snaked through the small hills and over the brooks and streams. In his peripheral vision, he could see Lorelai peacefully sleeping against her half-open window, a few loose tendrils of hair dancing across her forehead in the breeze. The sunlight penetrated through the tree cover and its rays swept over and under Lorelai's arms, giving her an angelic glow. He rested his wrists on the steering wheel at the 10-and-2 positions and listened to the drone of the engine and tires rolling against the asphalt as he continued through the countryside.  
  
An hour later, Lorelai heard the sound of tires on loose gravel. The truck was parked shortly after, and she rubbed her eyes.  
  
"Morning sunshine. We're here."  
  
"Where's here?" she asked between yawns.  
  
Before she could get an answer, Luke got out of the truck and made his way over to the passenger side. He opened her door and held out his hand to help her out. She grasped it tightly and jumped. The jolt from landing woke her up, and she was glad to find herself in Luke's arms. He hugged her, politely requesting that she stay where she was while he got something from the truck bed.  
  
"Once again, it would be really nice to know where we are," she stated, gesturing to the nearly abandoned parking lot and forest.  
  
"Hammonasset State Park."  
  
"Ham on what?"  
  
"Hammonasset State Park in Madison. According to woodland Indians, it means, "where we dig holes in the ground"."  
  
"Ookay. We're in Madison. Huh. What are we going to do here?"  
  
"You'll see." He returned to where she was standing and tossed her a cumbersome, purple object.  
  
"What's this?" She could feel cloth and wooden sticks of some sort through the plastic wrapping.  
  
"Just hang on to it." Luke tucked a similar package – his was white - underneath one arm, and slung the other over Lorelai's shoulders. "Go that way." He nodded his head over at the sign that read, "Public Beach: This Way."

* * *

The beach grass tickled their toes as they headed towards the shoreline. The sea breeze tousled his hair, and she teased him for looking funny; things were good. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the ocean; it glittered underneath the summer sun with the white caps barely visible. According to the signs posted, there was a sandcastle building contest taking place at the other end of the beach, so Luke and Lorelai had approximately a one mile stretch of beach all to themselves. Halfway to the waterline, he stopped and turned to face her.  
  
"Okay, you can open it now."  
  
They stood together in the salty air, faces red from ripping apart the tight plastic wrapping. When all was said and done, Lorelai found herself holding a kite - specifically, a kite shaped like a purple bird. She unfolded the wings and estimated their size to be around four feet; this was one gigantic bird.  
  
"Kites? We're going to fly kites?" Her words were filled with incredulity, much to Luke's disappointment.  
  
"I don't know what else you can do with them."  
  
Lorelai bit her lip. "I didn't mean that it was a bad idea. I never thought you'd want to fly a kite, that's all. It's a silly thing that couples do in romance novels, and you aren't...you don't read romance novels; at least not that I know of."  
  
"I don't."  
  
She waited for more, but Luke said nothing as he attempted to untangle his kite string. Frustration was apparent in the wrinkles on his forehead; this was the second time today that he was faced with a task that required a skill he didn't have. He brought the string to his mouth, hoping to undo the knot with his teeth, but Lorelai grabbed his arm.  
  
"It'll fray if you do that," she said softly. She took the string from him, and with the help of her nails, proceeded to loosen the knot. Luke felt helpless and distracted himself by smoothing out the wrinkles in the tail of his white bird. It was then that he wished he had chosen another color; white seemed too pure for this kind of frivolous activity.  
  
Even though she had managed to loosen the knot, the strings were still tangled and twisted in strange ways around the wooden support poles. During the course of her "fix-it" session, she turned her back to Luke. It was amazing to him how things between them could become awkward so quickly. The uncomfortable quiet feeling came over them like smoke, making it hard for either of them to breathe. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he put a hand on her shoulder apologetically.  
  
She turned and looked at him curiously. "Hmm?"  
  
"Your kite reminded me of something just now."  
  
"Oh, you mean Ellie?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied, grinning. She'd named the kite that he had given her, and somehow that was significant.  
  
"What did it remind you of?" Lorelai was a double knot away from success with the kite.  
  
"Well, I thought about this one time, a long time ago, when Rory was small. You guys came in and started babbling about what people wanted to be when they "grew up", and I remember that Rory said she wanted to be a purple bird that would fly all around the world. Then, that Thanksgiving, you gave me that thing, and..." he trailed off.  
  
At this, she moved the kite off her lap and took his hand in both of hers. She squeezed it gently before looking up. "I remember."  
  
They exchanged a look before Lorelai leapt up from the sand, thrusting a newly untangled kite into Luke's hand. "Let's go flying."

* * *

They started off at opposite ends of the beach, the large expanse of white sand between them. He shouted instructions, and Lorelai laughed and waved her arms because she couldn't hear him. She walked closer to the water and yelled to him when her feet got stuck, but Luke merely watched with a lopsided grin because he couldn't hear her either. At some point, when the two of them decided to forget communicating, they threw their kites into the air and took off running.  
  
Luke's kite was instantly carried into the air current, the ivory wings flapping wildly in the wind, yellow beak pointed towards the clouds. Lorelai's bird took off, and then nose-dived into the sand three feet in front of her. He watched her carefully as she picked it up, dusted it off, and catapulted it back into the sky. This time, it soared, and her eyes followed its path.  
  
The two birds fluttering simultaneously in the sky was a sight to behold. Luke held his string taut, so his bird made tight circles in the same area, black strips distinguishing it from the clouds. Lorelai, on the other hand, unraveled her entire spool of string, sending her bird traveling in loose figure eights and other organic patterns.  
  
A strong gust of wind caused her kite to swerve left, and in order to control it, she began to run backwards, attempting to re-wind the string back around the spool all the while. The same gust pulled Luke's kite in the same direction, and he tripped over his steps as he struggled to bring it back. He squinted against the sun and was so focused on finding his bird that he didn't notice Lorelai running backwards until the last minute. He swerved and lifted his arm over her head, but she turned and tripped, causing them to land in a pile in the sand. As if mocking them, their kites lazily spiraled back towards the ground.  
  
Luke brought his hand to the back of his head, feeling a bruise starting to form. "Ouch."  
  
Lorelai wiped sand from her eyes and lips, but was uninjured because Luke cushioned her fall. She sprawled out on top of him and grinned while leaning on her folded arms. He placed an arm around her and did his best to ignore the developing headache. "Next time, watch where you're going," he chastised lightly. She stuck out her tongue and he sighed. "So, did you and Ellie have fun?"  
  
"Yeah! We had the best time." She laughed quietly and said, "I could get used to fictional romance if it's anything like this."

* * *

That evening, after Luke and Lorelai had hiked through the park and eaten a dinner filled with various kinds of sandwiches, Lorelai insisted that they go back to the beach. Luke questioned her motives, but followed her.  
  
"Why are we going back? I think I finally got all the sand out of my clothes."  
  
"Because, if you're going to take me kite flying and then hiking through a forest, then you have to finish the package by walking hand in hand with me on a beach at sunset."  
  
"I wasn't aware we were following a package-deal."  
  
"It's the whole romance novel thing I mentioned earlier. We might as well pay full tribute if we're going to pay tribute at all."  
  
"Of course," he said, pretending to understand completely. He dangled his hand close to hers, allowing the backs of their hands to brush up against each other with every step.  
  
She looked at him for a moment before intertwining her hand with his. "Congratulations. We've officially completed the "Create your own romance novel" workshop."  
  
"I think I want my money back," he teased.  
  
Lorelai laughed and elbowed him before sitting down. He noted that the tide was slowly rising, and she responded, "Oh well. It looks like we'll be drowning together, then."  
  
"Super."  
  
"Yep."  
  
Luke observed that Lorelai had begun to mold the sand between them into something. She pushed sand in from the left and right, forming a long island in the middle. She used her fingertips to put indentations in the edges and her nails to cut and dig out small pieces of the central shape. She was doing this silently, and that intrigued him.  
  
"Lorelai, what are you doing?"  
  
"Making Finland," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing.  
  
Oh, of course. Rory. Emily had insisted that mainstream Europe was overdone and that they should tour Scandinavia instead. Rory had adhered to her grandmother's wishes, ignoring Lorelai's pained expression that said she wished she were going too. He remembered when Lorelai spilled every detail of that night to him; she was a mess. She was also quiet, just as she was now.  
  
"Ah. Have you talked to her lately?"  
  
Lorelai shrugged. "A few days ago. She doesn't call much. She doesn't have a reason to."  
  
He smoothed the top of "Finland" with circular motions of his hand. "Is she doing okay? Coping?"  
  
"She's coping. They're in Stavanger, Norway, staying at a Best Western." She tried to laugh at the image of Emily staying in anything less than a Ritz Carlton, but the lonely feeling squeezing her chest prevented that. "I miss her so much, and she's halfway across the world not even thinking of me."  
  
He leaned across what would've been the Norwegian Sea, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "She thinks about you all the time. She's probably thinking about you and wondering how you are right now."  
  
"Yeah, maybe."  
  
He started forming more piles of sand around her "Finland". He wasn't good with the intricacies of sand building, but he managed to form two more large shapes and a small island beneath those. He felt the gritty sand, remnants of shells, and dead grass pressing into his knees and working their way underneath his fingernails, but at least the sand was cool and the air less sticky than before.  
  
Lost in her thoughts, Lorelai hadn't noticed Luke's construction efforts. She paused to tuck her long hair into her shirt - the wind was picking up as the evening settled in – and tilted her head, interest piqued. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Well," he began as he patted the sides of the recently crafted island. "Last time I checked, Scandinavia included four countries. You only made one."  
  
She bit her lip, and her face changed in adoration; a smile threatened to emerge and he caught a tear or two burning behind her eyes. She crawled over and gave him a sideways hug. Still kneeling, he managed to lean his cheek affectionately against the skin between her neck and shoulder. She pulled away and returned to the other side of their Scandinavian creation.  
  
Lorelai pointed to the island. "That'll be Denmark."  
  
He pointed to another shape. "And this, Norway."  
  
"Last but not least, Sweden," she said, finally smiling.  
  
He chuckled and they both continued to shape the four countries. The people attending the sand-building contest were leaving; medals and trophies were being passed around, the gold plating shimmering in the distance. Two little girls could be seen jumping up and down repeatedly on the winning sculptures, mercilessly destroying the abandoned dolphins, castles, and mermaids. Lorelai hoped that they would leave before she and Luke did; she wanted this to stay here forever. Realistically speaking, she knew it wouldn't, and that's why she made sure they took a long time chiseling out the Baltic Sea and the Gulfs of Finland and Bothnia.  
  
Later, when the light poles along the park's gravel paths lit up, and a wide-awake Luke and Lorelai were driving back to Stars Hollow, the water slowly crept up to the edges of their sculpture. It swirled in and out of the carved fjords, bays, and seas until the tide swept all the way over the sand and retreated slowly back into the vast ocean, taking a stray purple ribbon and their Scandinavian sand-map with it. 


	6. Chapter 5: Despondence

**A/N**: As you've probably noticed, the chapters are starting to connect to each other in various ways, and I figured a timeline would be useful. Things will be filled in as the story progresses.

1. Raincoats and Recipes (May of 2004)

2. Education and Intricacy (Two weeks later - June of 2004)

3. The Breakup (Summer of 2005)

4. Despondence (September 2005)

5. Scintillation (June of 2006)

6. Incandescence (December of 2006)

I feel like I haven't shown a lot of appreciation for the reviews I've gotten, and I'd just like to give everyone who has been reviewing a sincere thank you. Thank you.

* * *

**Chapter 5 – { … despondence … }**

Despondence (noun) – feeling downcast and disheartened and hopeless.

* * *

The rain was coming down in torrents, serving as a great distraction from Taylor's latest proposal. Claps of thunder accompanied by flashes of lightning came at regular intervals; it didn't look like anybody would be leaving the town meeting anytime soon. 

Lorelai put a hand to her throbbing head; a headache was forming near her temporal lobe, the place where she retained her memories. The rain brought a specific memory rushing to the top of her thoughts, drowning out Taylor's monotonous voice.

_He moved his hand up and down her bare back, pressing gently on her spine as he did so. She spoke with her cheek against his skin, her warm breath caressing the hairs on his shoulders. _

_She finished her story with a fabulous punch line – or so she thought – and waited for Luke's sarcastic remark. When he was quiet, she repeated the line, and his response this time was, "I don't get it." She said, "Don't worry about it. I'm just rambling." She laughed a hollow laugh, as if to prove to him (and herself) that she honestly never found the story funny to begin with. _

_She felt guilty; she never asked how he was doing, what he was up to. _

_"So, what's going on with you?" _

_"Nothing, really." _

_"Oh, well, nothing can be good sometimes." _

_She pulled the worn polyester comforter closer to them and noted that they had managed to kick the sheets to the bottom of the bed. He said that he noticed too, and even though he didn't have the energy to pull them back up completely, he used his feet and managed to get the crisp linen around their ankles. _

_She took his hand and held it up in front of her. She slowly bent his pinkie at the different joints, making sure that he was still there, human and alive. Her fingers wandered to the creases in his palm, her nails following the deeper ones. _

_"I think it would be fun to be a palm reader." _

_"Where did that come from?" _

_"I don't know; it's just an idea."_

_"You'd probably make a good one." _

_"You think so?"_

_"Sure, if you knew what you were doing." _

_She traced his life line, the indentation stemming from the middle of his wrist and traveling to the place between his thumb and forefinger. _

_"This is your life line. It's more shallow than deep, so that means that sometimes, you have a tendency to let others control your life, but you have a good thing going anyway." _

_"Always good to know." _

_She continued, pointing to a line leading up to his middle finger. "And this is your fate line. Since it's connected to the life line, it says that you're a self-made individual, someone who knows what they want out of life and gets started on it early." She squinted in the dim light, and concluded that there were no smaller lines branching from it. "That really does sound like you." _

_"It does. Where did you get all of this from anyway?" _

_"Magazines. Rory and I used to do this, along with fortune telling. Of course, we never really knew what we were talking about as far as that went." _

_"Ah." _

_"Last one. Now I'm going to find your heart line." Before she could find it, thunder rumbled overhead, and the lights went out, throwing them into darkness. Sheet lightning crackled and became a backlight to the raging storm. _

_Startled by the power outage, she dropped his hand. She tried to recover her bearings, heart still beating at twice the normal rate. _

_"That was freaky." _

_He kissed her hair and said quietly, "It was. At least we weren't using any appliances." _

_"True. Very true." _

_"Are you going to finish my palm reading?" _

_She grinned, amused that he was subtly expressing his intrigue. "Sure."_

_She fumbled around in the dark, searching the bed for his hand, and came up empty. He laughed as he moved his hand all over the pillows, away from her reach. When she finally caught his hand, it was by the wrist, and she could feel his pulse beating against her palm, against her life, fate, and heart lines. _

_She couldn't see his heart line in the darkness, so she felt for it with the tips of her fingers, reading his hand like a sheet of Braille. After a minute, she couldn't find it and was internally panicking a bit. _

_"Find it yet?"_

_"No, actually." _

_"Don't worry about it; you can do it in the morning. We should probably get some sleep, anyhow." _

_"No, I have to find it! You have to have a heart line; everyone does. It defines how you love." _

_"I'm sure I have one. It's just dark and what not. Come on, it doesn't matter; it'll be okay." _

_Despondence and fatigue washed over her, and she reluctantly closed his hand in a fist and covered it with her hand. He promised that he'd remind her to find it as soon as they woke up the next day. She didn't know what to say to that, so she left an eerie silence sitting between them. _

_She should've known then, when neither of them had much to say to each other, that things were changing. The door that they had walked through was warping, expanding and contracting in the frame until one day, it wouldn't be able to close properly, and the cold wind would whoosh through, freezing everything within._

_She shut her eyes and whispered, "I love you." He pulled her closer to him, like she was drifting away, and said, "I know."_

Lorelai snapped out of her reverie, only to find herself staring at the lines on her hands, questioning whether or not he really knew she loved him, considering that the next morning, they were late in rising, and in the frantic attempts to get ready for work, he had forgotten about his promise entirely.

* * *

Luke returned to the diner, sopping wet from the rain. The town meeting had been a waste of time, as it always was, but he went because he never knew what ridiculous plan Taylor was concocting otherwise. Or maybe because he knew he'd see Lorelai. 

He went into the kitchen to clean the ovens, and told his latest hire, Aileen, to wipe down the counter. Aileen was affable and was brought up in a Southern town, evident by the slight twang in her voice.

"I know I said you could leave early tomorrow, but would you close tomorrow and you can leave early Friday?"

"Of course not, Mr. Danes. I'd be happy to."

"You ever going to call me Luke?"

"Nope." She smiled. "Calling adults by their first names is something I never got used to."

"I see."

He fiddled with some knobs, and was thankful for self-cleaning ovens. The whirring noise began, and Luke made his way to the storeroom where he proceeded to open the boxes of croutons and bacon bits he had received earlier. After stepping on a few bags and tripping over a crate, he yelled out to Aileen.

"Did we get any saltine crackers today?"

"I don't think so. Anything delivered is in front of you."

"Oh, okay, just wondering."

He rifled through several more cardboard cartons, but to no avail. He was supposed to have gotten them days ago; where were they? Luke was contemplating whom he should call about this when he heard something shatter. He brought his head around the doorframe.

"Aileen?"

When she didn't answer, he flipped the storeroom light off and walked behind the counter where he found Aileen bent over something on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

He moved to be in front of her, and said her name again. "Aileen?"

Her two brown pigtails hung limply against her face, and she turned to face him.

"I-I was wiping down the inside of the counter and figured I could just do one big sweep, because nothing's ever there. I mean, at least not in this section. And then, I did, and before I knew it, it was on the floor. I didn't mean to; I didn't see it. Honestly, I didn't!"

With desperate eyes, she held out her hands for Luke to see. Lying in her palms were the pieces of a green coffee cup, the white ceramic exposed where it had broken.

He tensed, and it must have been visible, because Aileen began to ramble again. "I can try to glue it back together; I mean, it's not that many pieces. There's only about five or six. Or if you like, I'll pay for it or – "

Luke cut her off. "Don't worry about it. It's just a cup. You can't glue it back anyhow." He waved his hand over the small chips at their feet. "It won't fit together without these pieces, and they're way too small for you to glue."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go home and rest, Aileen. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I'll close up."

She stood up and wiped her face with her sleeve. "Thanks Luke. I really am sorry."

"I know you are." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Hey, I got a first name."

Aileen sniffled and laughed. "Awkward, but I can do it again."

"Good. Do it again. Tomorrow, though. Go on."

She left with a small wave, and Luke sighed as he slumped down against the wall. He held one of the larger pieces in his hand, staring at the fingerprints he was creating in the thin layer of dust. He ran his palm against the edge, feeling the crevices that air bubbles had once inhabited.

His mind strayed, and as a result, he forgot that the corners of ceramic were undoubtedly sharp. The corner sliced through his hand, and he dropped the piece, cursing as it smashed into the floor for a second time.

It was a small cut that didn't require a bandage, but it hurt nevertheless and he knew it would leave a scar. As he was sweeping up the pieces of the broken cup, his throat tightened with vulnerability. She was right; up until a few months ago, he'd never kept anything under the counter. Back then, he'd assumed that the cup would be moved by now, perhaps finding a home in the "Luke Box" that dwelled in Lorelai's closet.

The cut was in the top right corner of his hand, scarring the loose flesh below his middle, ring, and pinkie fingers. It crossed over a deep line that extended from his middle finger to the right side of the palm, seemingly dividing it in two. He tried to remember what she had said about that line, what she had said about the other lines and the smaller lines that branched off of those. In his memory, he couldn't recall her ever commenting on this particular one; he knew her fingers had touched it, but she'd never identified it or traced it with a neatly manicured nail.

It took him a while, because he couldn't remember the names of the lines, but when it dawned on him, he felt like choking, or throwing up. So many things had been broken tonight, and he didn't think they had been made to be. Aileen's composure, the cup, his spirit…

He figured out that this was his heart line, and now, it was broken too.


End file.
